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Lyrics:
All of my brags turn to facts
And that’s why

All my brags turn to facts, all my hundreds turn to racks
All my ladies turn to snacks, SUVs black on— (Black on)
SUVs black on black
I was fuckin’ up, but now I’m back on track, that’s a fact, woo

Filet mignon, that’s on Jack
I done turned a penthouse suite into my natural habitat
I just got my taxes back, that shit cut my cash in half
And it hurt (And it hurt), main chick say I’m a flirt
Older women fall for me, I make ’em press that Life Alert
I just took a flight back to the A, I’m ready to get right to work
Me, I keep the coolest head even when they get hype at first
Lotta people back at home, they tryna make it out the dirt
Don’t stop pushin’, used to catch Z’s on the couch cushions
Now I call the shots like I’m John Wooden (John Wooden)
In the kitchen with my jewelry in the pot cookin’
Walkin’ through the mall, and they can’t stop lookin’ (I ain’t lyin’)

All my brags turn to facts, all my hundreds turn to racks
All my ladies turn to snacks, SUVs black on— (Black on)
SUVs black on black
I was fuckin’ up, but now I’m back on track, that’s a fact
Yeah, yeah, I’ve seen hitters turn to rats
We went from hemis to them ‘Cats
Remember trailed me in my Track’
SUVs (SUVs), SUVs black on black
I see ’em talking’ tough, can’t wait to slime ’em out, king slatt

Every car I get up in gotta have two up on the dash (Skrrt, skrrt)
And every ho I want, every ho I want get smashed (You know that ho got smashed)
Tryna reach for somethin’ around my neck, get hit with the whole mag (Don’t get cut about this glass)
All these new VVs on me wet, you can blame Wafi for this glass (Wafi for this jewelry)
We stand against the opps forever, ain’t no puttin’ shit in the past (Puttin’ shit in no past never)
If you was lookin’ for and couldn’t find me, I was in my bag (I was in my bag)
It’s sixty rounds under my chop, all my guns got extended mags (Guns got extended mags)
Put no tags up on my Trackhawk ’cause I plan on doin’ the dash (Skrrt, skrrt, skrrt, skrrt, yeah)
After I get away, re-wrap it all black (Re-wrap it all black)
Think ’bout your folks before you play, you gotta be smarter than that (Just be smarter than that)
I’m tryna go back and rebuild the hood where I was starvin’ at (Where I was starvin’ at)
And that’s a fact, you fuck with Harlow, I send hollow bullets just like a quarterback (Blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrrd)

All my brags turn to facts, all my hundreds turn to racks
All my ladies turn to snacks, SUVs black on— (Black on)
SUVs black on black
I was fuckin’ up, but now I’m back on track, that’s a fact
Yeah, yeah, I’ve seen hitters turn to rats
We went from hemis to them ‘Cats
Remember trailed me in my Track’
SUVs (SUVs), SUVs black on black
I see ’em talking’ tough, can’t wait to slime ’em out, king slatt, blrrrd, blrrrd
Blrrrd

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